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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22480138">The New Merc</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigereyes45/pseuds/tigereyes45'>tigereyes45</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Red vs. Blue</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Donut and Wash are still friends, M/M, Protective Carolina, Recovering Washington, Updates Thursdays, post season 17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-01-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 07:14:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,190</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22480138</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigereyes45/pseuds/tigereyes45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Locus has officially joined red team, which causes some problems. Not only does introducing a new person cause changes to their dynamics but they have a healing Washington to worry about too. Donut is gone. Carolina's on edge. Sarge isn't shouting as much as he used to, and the norms of red team have been destroyed. It's a lot to deal with.<br/>At least noone might be jealous that Grif has found a new best friend.<br/>*Updates Thursdays*</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dexter Grif/Dick Simmons, Dexter Grif/Locus | Samuel Ortez, Dexter Grif/Locus | Samuel Ortez/Dick Simmons, Locus | Samuel Ortez/Dick Simmons</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>54</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Back Home</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The days that led him to stand in the middle of the field between their new bases were a blur. Days in the hospital mix with being moved from one temporary apartment to the next. Little details stand out. Simple instances like new cuts on Carolina’s hands scratching his as she steadies him. Sarge walking him to the bath where they left him. For some reason, Tucker had taken to training with him more without complaint. He and Carolina were at almost every physical therapy session. When he was healthy enough to give instructions for training soldiers on Chorus again, Tucker was always there falling orders alongside the rookies. The strange part was that he never uttered a single complaint.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then there was Caboose. He made sure to sit by Wash at every meal. Yet he was surprisingly quiet. Maybe there was more but Wash couldn’t remember. Flashes of memories interrupt the thoughts every time he tries to think back. Tries to recall everything from the fast few months. Saying goodbye to Carolina. Donut guiding him through the everwhen. Donut screaming, the pain shooting through his own neck. Locus saving him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s right Locus had been there. He forgot about that. Maybe it shouldn’t be so weird seeing him throw Lopez over his shoulder and into the dirt. He can’t remember how long the reds and blues had been moved into these bases, but someone told him Locus came back once they were there. That he used to slink around and between the different apartments. Maybe that was when he started training with the reds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The clicks of guns being raised interrupt his thoughts. As Carolina holds her gun leveled with Locus’ head Wash realizes it’s a surprise for her as well. Suddenly there’s orange in front of the green merc. Felix comes back to life with a laugh in his head. Wash grabs his gun. An red arm catches his hand. Sarge was there, in full armor shaking his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Grif what are you doing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t shoot. Lopez was being an asshole.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“His Spanish may be broken but I can still understand it. I’m surprised he’s gotten away with saying such things around you bunch for so long.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh, it was Grif in front of him. Not Felix. The merc was still dead. Washington holds his head as he watches Carolina put her gun away. She was still talking. He could tell by the way she was throwing her hands around. For someone who talks with her hands so much, they always end up saying nothing at all. He watches her hands. Trails of light fill in the spaces they leave behind, circling around and spinning into each other. A sharp pain shoots up from his neck. It jabs at the back of his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ouch. Damn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wash?” Suddenly those bright hands are on him. They sit on his shoulders. No, more like they are holding his shoulders up. Their grip was steady but careful.  “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about me. Why is Locus here?” Wash tries to push those arms away. His own hands flail against the blue armor in front of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what I want to know.” Man Carolina could sound so scary when she’s pissed. She still terrifies him. Only sometimes though. She is a huge softie after all, and learning that ebbed away at some of the initial awe and terror he used to feel. Before she died the first time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told Agent Washington that Locus was staying with us. He’s a part of red team now. Tucker was supposed to tell you.” Wash looks up, but he could only see Carolina. She was turned around talking to someone. His best guess was Grif.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“David is hurt! Tucker knew about this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes ma’am. If you have a problem take it up with your man, but Locus is stayin’.” There was Sarge. Washington could feel his throat let go of a laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He grew some guts. Bet the crazy bastard always had them laying around somewhere. Good job Sarge.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wash,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m good Carolina. So good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps it would be best if you took Agent Washington inside to rest.” There was the deep voice directly from the source of trouble himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re talking about this more, later.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He helped save Wash!” Grif was calling out now meaning they were moving. Wash opens his eyes again to see Carolina was on his left now. Her arm tucked under one shoulder, wrapped down around his waist. He looks around to see Sarge walking next to them on his right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He has a right to be here Carolina. Plus with red team down a man since Donut left-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not right now, Sarge.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Washington pushes his brain to focus. He looks at Sarge and smiles. “That means she’s mad at you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Breakfast</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A deal is made. Carolina was always competitive.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you so much to Luigifan11 who is beta-reading this story for me!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Locus was always the first one awake. Which infuriated Carolina to no end. She was comfortable enough around the rest of them now, but he remembers how she and Sarge were always trying to wake up before the other. Both functioning on competitiveness and low-key paranoia they hid under a guise of friendly competition. Despite Carolina knowing she was strong enough to take all of them, she was acutely aware of the fact that any of them could put a bullet through her brain as she slept. Even with her armor on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So Grif watches silently, loving every second of Carolina trying not to act frustrated by Locus being up before her. Originally he wasn't even going to be. Locus had woken him up and asked which food he was allowed to eat. Thinking back to the days where Wash had been in charge of keeping track of all the food, Grif shrugged and said whatever. This led to Locus lifting him out of the bed. Surprise kept Grif quiet at first. Then just general apathy as he realizes Locus was carrying him to the kitchen. He was asleep again by the time they got there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Locus woke him by flicking a few drops of water onto his face. "I know you wake up at 3 am every morning to come down here and get snacks. Which means you must know what you can take without anyone noticing."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He almost asks how Locus knows that. One look at Locus, and Grif knows he would never tell. "Or I just don't care if they notice." Most likely he had woken Locus up during one of his late-night snacks. He wasn't as used to sneaking around him as he was the rest of the team yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Now you know, otherwise your snack horde would already be ransacked to recover the stolen food. So what can I take?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"There's half a box of grain cereal only Donut and Simmons touch. You can eat some of that. Also, two apples because we got some extra in the last drop off."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How many extra?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Six somehow. I hid two."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Why?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grif shrugs. "Fruit has sugar." Plus apples were one of the few snacks he can offer Simmons without the maroon soldier complaining.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Locus nods briefly and quickly make his makeshift breakfast. Grif wandered out of the kitchen half of the living room. His body collapses comfortably on the couch. Sarge could yell at him later for taking up the whole thing, right now he wanted to sleep. In the afternoon when he woke up Grif found himself in one of his secret hiding spots. It was behind a large stone a few feet away from the base. How he got there wasn't as much of a mystery as to why? When he was going to question Locus, Sarge stopped him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Grif! I guess that hiding training you did with Locus has paid off well. I couldn't find you for mop duty this morning so Simmons had to do it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nevermind, he would thank Locus instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So you have to organize the weapons locker instead!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There it goes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why he would train you to hide better is beyond me. We all know you’re just going to use it to sleep more.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Locus found him later on his way to said locker, the two barely exchanged a word. The tall mercenary just followed him. Locus helped him organize the locker. Which meant he organized it as Grif told him about the rest of red team. They sat next to each other for lunch. Grif watched as Locus dodged Sarge's bullets during training. At dinner, they sat next to each other again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cycle repeated itself. Locus would wake Grif up at whatever forsaken time he had risen, take what he could for breakfast, and let Grif sleep. Every afternoon, Grif would wake up in a different spot, smiling as he had, yet again, avoided being woken up in the morning by Sarge or Simmons. That was until Agents Washington and Carolina came back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first night that they joined them wasn't too eventful at least. They arrived just in time to see Locus throw Lopez to the ground for calling his mother a string of insults thinking Locus had been out of hearing range. Guns were raised, suspicions going even higher, and his helping them completely forgotten within moments. Washington was easier to reassure then Carolina. He laughed the whole thing off pretty easily, though that only seemed to put Carolina more on edge. She spent most of the night arguing with Tucker about his ability to communicate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hope that she had gotten all that anger out of her system soared as she woke up. She quickly spies Locus and Grif in the kitchen, taking food. She stood there, waiting. At least there was no drawn gun this time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What's going on here?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Uh getting breakfast. Why are you here?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s Sarge’s day to get Wash up.” Her hand waves towards the two nutrient bars in front of Locus as if she was a Jedi. He half expected them to rise in the air. It would be one of the only ways Carolina could become cooler.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That is not on the schedule for breakfast."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, they aren't even on the list of all our supplies," Grif admits for once feeling brave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I am not on Chorus' record for the bases. The reds have been sharing parts of their meals for me. I wake up earliest so Grif has been helping scrounge up loose food that no one would miss."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Grif?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He's telling the truth. We don't want Kimball knowing he's here. Just like when we were hiding him in the apartments from you and her. Food was easier then cause we could just order, but oh well. Better you than me, buddy." He lightly pats Locus' shoulder. Shaking his head, Grif closes his eyes. "Poor, scary mercenary."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Locus lets out a low growl. Grif leaves his hand on his shoulder. "Dude, you're not scarier than the Meta. Try growling once you are."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carolina looked almost shocked as she watched them. It was quickly replaced by curiosity. Then came the competitiveness. Every morning this week, she's tried waking up earlier then Locus. Only to find him already in the kitchen, with Grif (sometimes) asleep at the table. On Sunday, she was finally there before them. One look and Grif knew. This time she hadn't slept at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Agent Carolina."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Locus." Her eyes were dead as they look back down into her cup of coffee. "Why do you get up at a different hour every day?" Her voice as soft as pillows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It just depends on when I wake up."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Ah, so that's it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Morning, Carolina."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sneers at him, with her eyes narrowed as if they just saw a dog shit on their shoes. Shaking her head, Carolina walks off. Her green eyes standing out against the dark of his eyelids as he drifts back off.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Nothing is how it Was</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Am I posting this chapter a day late? Yes. Is it because I didn't have the chapter done? No. I literally forgot I hadn't posted it haha. Happy Valentine's day. Have some angst.</p><p>This was my favorite chapter to write so far by the way. So I hope everyone enjoys it.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Washington woke up to his alarm whirring like the base alarm. Carefully, he threw his legs off the side of his bed. As his eyes fight back grogginess, he takes in an empty chair next to his bed. No one had stayed with him last night. The surprise sprints away as happiness chases it. Finally! No Carolina, or Tucker, or Sarge waiting on him to wake up. No one there to offer their help with his armor. In fact, he didn't even have to wear his armor today. It's not like any of them were going anywhere. This wasn't Iris, so no dinosaurs to worry about. Donut left already, ergo, no fires. Washington smiles as he changes out of his pajamas. Yes, he missed Donut, but he was doing what he wanted to. Their pink soldier had left to see more of the universe. Wherever he would go, Washington knows he would be living his life the best he could. It was the only way Donut knows how to do anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Glancing at the mirror, Washington realizes he had put on the white shirt with the old grumpy cat from the 2000s memes on it. Underneath the cat was the words, "It's light-ish red", in pink lettering. He smiles. At least he had time to say goodbye before leaving.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the former freelancer steps out of his room, the bright base lights almost scare him back into it. He covers his eyes with his forearms. Fire sears it's ways through the back of his spine. Somehow, he had ended up on the floor of his bedroom. Those lights hadn't bothered him before. Hopelessly, he stares up from the floor, pondering over what happened as he curls up. He could almost hear Loki purring from between his hands. That cat had the worse luck, but he was always there, ready to cuddle with Wash. Curled up around him had been his favorite way to sleep as a kid. Slowly his eyes begin to close again. Loki's purring was so comforting.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Wash woke up, there was light coming from his window. He unfurls himself. When did he fall out of his bed? Why hadn't anyone woken him up. Wait... As he pushes himself up, he notices the empty chair for the first time. Oh, they must've thought him ready to start the day on his own. His eyes find their way to his clock gradually. In big, blocky, red letters it proudly states that it was 11:30. The am in the corner was tiny compared to the rest. How did he sleep through both of his alarms?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After getting up, he makes his way to his dresser to dig for clothes. When he pulls out a black shirt and matching black knee length shorts, Wash lets out an grunt of approval.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He catches pink in the corner of his eye and he spins on his heel. Snapping back around to see if someone else was there, he's met only with his reflection. Since when did he sleep in blue jeans? Oh, this was the shirt Donut had given him. Well, it's not like anyone would know he was wearing a shirt he had slept in. He switches the blue jeans out for the black pants. Donut would probably agree, saying that the black went with the pink better. He throws his blue aside. Never did his eyes take notice of the small pile of discarded clothes slowly building up in the corner. Or the fact that there were another set of day clothes on top of his pajamas. They stay there, silent and cold having been barely touched as he turns the light on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Almost forgot to turn the light on. Have to sit in this for a few moments before stepping out. You gotta remember that Wash. You have to acclimate. They'll start sitting in here again if you forget."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sits down in the empty chair and waits. "Should've turned it on while I changed clothes."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After waiting, he headed straight for the kitchen. 'Someone would be there,' he thought as he hobbles in. Grif was, in fact, in the living room half of the main area. Wash looks to see the kitchen half empty. Close enough. Shrugging, he moves to sit next to Grif. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What are you doing in blue base?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hiding from Sarge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Ah." Wash looks around. "Where's Carolina?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Out."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shimmering from the direction of the television catches his attention. "What are you watching Grif?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Die hard,"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Why?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The orange clad soldier shrugs. "Haven't seen it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wash accepted that answer for a moment. Then he remembers that time Grif and Tucker had quoted the movie back and forth at each other for thirty minutes. "Yes you have."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Nope." Grif turns the movie up louder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Grif you have. I remember because you and Tucker-" He was interrupted by shots in the movie. His heart starts racing. Much like the cat on his shirt, he jumps up. Landing haphazardly on his feet, Wash almost falls back into the tv. Luckily, he was able to regain his footing. A gust of wind, or maybe a surge of energy that felt a lot like a hand giving him a push, was enough to save the day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Careful, Wash! You just got here. We don't want you returning to Dr. Grey already." Grif chides him almost off the couch, ready to try and help.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No, don't get up. I've got it. Just had a moment." Pinching his nose, he bends over. The voices on the tv drift in and out as Wash focuses. "We're in blue base. The new blue base. I'm okay."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taking a few more breaths, Wash stays huddled. Another burst of energy that also felt like a gentle guiding hand helps him stand back up. He struggles getting back to the couch. Once his fingers grace the grooves, he falls into it, laughing a little as he bounces on the cushion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey Grif what are you watching?" He asks noticing a man taking aim.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Die hard, Wash."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That's cool." Another shimmer passes through the tv. Wash closes his eyes and yawns. He shouldn't be so tired. He's only been up for a little bit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A voice that sounds a lot like Locus speaks, "I'm going to find Agent Ca-,"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah good idea man." Wash opens his eyes to see Grif nodding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Wait, was Locus just here?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grif looks over at him. It takes a moment for him to answer. "Nope. Just you, me, and the tv."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I thought I heard-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Probably just the tv man."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh... okay." Wash keeps quiet as Grif's head falls back into his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tv time came to an end as Carolina found them. She was quick to give orders. Even quicker to enforce them. Grif and Wash had to head outside for a training session, an obstacle course she had set up to keep everyone on their toes. She may have been willing to retire last time, but after Temple, she was never going to risk that again. Actually, it could be because of what happened with Chrovos. That took a lot out of everyone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck. Wash looks down at his white grumpy cat shirt. If he worked out he would sweat, a lot. It could ruin Donut's gift. Grumbling, Wash tore his shirt off. Carefully he folds it and sits it on a nearby rock. As he makes it back to the obstacle course, Simmons and Sarge had finished their run. Locus and Grif line up at the start. Locus looked pretty relax compared to how he used to be. Everytime Wash thinks back to it, he always just seemed tensed, upset. It was almost like his mind was a constant spinning tornado throwing the worst out of it to smack him with. Now as he stands ready next to Grif, his muscles actually look relaxed, his shoulders weren't taut, and his eyes weren't as cold as before. Maybe the red team was good for him. Just like the blue team had been good for himself. Though Wash had to admit, it was weird not seeing Simmons besides Grif.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Someone coughs off towards his left. Speaking of which, Wash smiles. "What's up Simmons?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Nothing much. How are you feeling?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Pretty good. A lot better now that I'm back with everyone. Those apartments were okay, but it's weird not having everyone in the same place. This is better. Just two bases on a planet empty enough for us to roam alone."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, it almost feels like we're back on Iris before Temple started his attacks."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh yeah... That guy." Wash had forgotten about him. Just for a moment, but still. Everytime he thinks back, there isn't a face for Temple. Just Church. He knows the two aren't the same, but he resigns himself to fixing the mix up later. Right now, he couldn't strain his brain as much as he may want to. Emily had warned him about it. Fear curls itself around his heart like a snake about to swallow an egg whole.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah. Soooo..." Simmons' voice drifts off. Carolina blows her whistle and Locus takes off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What do you think about Locus?" A breeze pushes its way against them. It pushes Wash's hair back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He's trying to change. Can't blame him for that." Wash crosses his arms over his bare chest. Suddenly he realizes why everyone else but Carolina and him were still in their armor. It was kind of cool outside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Simmons fidgets a little next to him. Wash watch as his fingers fall back to one of his knives. Maroon armor hands trace a familiar pattern along the hilt of them. A circle with an x. The sign Simmons always subconsciously rubs when he is mistrusting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You don't trust him." Wash leans back as Locus reaches the halfway point. He leans closer to Simmons so they wouldn't have to speak so loudly. Locus was observant, and a decent listener. If they were going to talk, they needed to do so quietly. Well... as quietly as Simmons could manage. For all his skills, whispering wasn't among them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don't know. It's weird. Like he saved us, but that was after he tried to kill us."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I tried to kill you. I shot Donut. Several times." Wash points knowingly towards the sky. "You guys tend to make allies out of enemies a lot."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"True..."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I think you're overthinking it Simmons. Just relax. It'll be fine."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Simmons stares at Washington. "If you say so, Wash..." His voice his filled with uncertainty. Wash could almost imagine Simmons trying not to frown, which would only make his grow deeper and longer every moment he tries not to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Wanna go next?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Are you sure you're ready for this?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Of course. I'm not about to make you all train and not participate. The doctor says I'm all good now for physical activity. Let's race."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Um, sure Wash."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Locus crosses the finish line leagues ahead of Grif. The orange soldier had barely made it a quarter of the way through. Locus looks back. Wash had no doubts that there was a sour look on Locus' face. One that might even match Simmons. Caution is smart, but Simmons was often not just cautious. Sometimes, he could be paranoid. A little like Locus. Both soldiers also got along with Grif. As the orange soldier crosses the finish line, Locus was holding out a hand to congratulate him. Meanwhile Simmons audibly scoffs at the interaction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I can't believe he waited on Grif. Typically he just lies down on the track and waits for Carolina or me to drag him off."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Maybe he is trying to get better Simmons. That stuff in the labyrinth was really heavy. He wouldn't be the only one to have changed because of it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Exactly! The labyrinth! Ever since then he spends all his time with Sister or Locus. It's weird!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How is it weird to want to be around family more? Grif's lucky. I haven't seen my sisters in years. Plus, Locus is the new guy. Last time you all had a new guy, he jumped on the bandwagon of insulting Grif. Maybe, this time, Grif's trying to prevent it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Simmons turns as if to question him. Whatever it was about, he stops himself and looks ahead again. "I guess... They're just nothing alike."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wash shrugs. "I don't know about that. They're both recovering right now. Grif had a complete mental breakdown, according to Emily. Locus has been trying to recover from one of his own for years. They have more in common than you may think."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Red team had practically adopted the mercenary. Sarge and Grif had been insistent on him staying. Maybe there was more trouble in the hellscape that was red team than he originally thought. Wash and Simmons line up at the starting line. He could feel Carolina's green eyes burning into his neck. Oddly enough, as he glances at Simmons, his friend was staring straight ahead. Carolina gives the call. They start, and suddenly Wash could hear a strange noise coming from Simmons. Almost like the sound of a clock ticking as they run. He ignores it for now, narrowing his focus on the course. Wash could always ask him about it later, after all.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is a short introductory chapter because I wanted to set some stuff up, such as Washington being a big character in this story even if he isn't a part of the main ships. The next chapter will be longer and have more to do with the ships.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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